Classic Poem

I often wished that I had clear
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land, set out to plant a wood.

Well: now I have all this and more,
I ask not to increase my store;
And should be perfectly content,
Could I but live on this side Trent;
Nor cross the Channel twice a year,
To spend six months with statesmen here.

I must by all means come to town,
'Tis for the service of the crown.
'Lewis; the Dean will be of use,
Send for him up, take no excuse.'
The toil, the danger of the seas;
Great ministers ne'er think of these;
Or let it cost five hundred pound,.
No matter where the money's found;
It is but so much more in debt,
And that they no'er considered yet.

'Good Mr Dean, go change your gown,
Let my Lord know you're come to town.'
I hurry me in haste away,
Not thinking it is levee day;
And find his honour in a pound,
Hemmed by a triple circle round,
Chequered with ribbons blue and green,
How should I thrust myself between?
Some wag observes me thus perplexed,
And smiling, whispers to the next,
'I thought the Dean had been too proud,
To jostle here among a crowd.'
Another in a surly fit,
Tells me I have more zeal than wit,
'So eager to express your love,
You ne'er consider whom you shove,
But rudely press before a duke.'
I own, I'm pleased with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant to show
What I desire the world should know.

I get a whisper, and withdraw,
When twenty fools I never saw
Come with petitions fairly penned,
Desiring I would stand their friend.

This, humbly offers me his case:
That, begs my interest for a place.
A hundred other men's affairs
Like bees are humming in my ears.
'Tomorrow my appeal comes on,
Without your help the cause is gone--'
'The Duke expects my Lord and you,
About some great affair, at two--'
'Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind,
To get my warrant quickly signed:
Consider, 'tis my first request.'
Be satisfied. I'll do my best--
Then presently he falls to tease:
'You may for certain, if you please;
I doubt not, if his Lordship knew--
And Mr Dean, one word from you--'

'Tis (let me see) three years and more
(October next, it will be four)
Since Harley bid me first attend,
And chose me for an humble friend;
Would take me in his coach to chat,
And question me of this and that;
As 'What's o-clock?' and 'How's the wind?
Whose chariot's that we left behind?'
Or gravely try to read the lines
Writ underneath the country signs;
Or, 'Have you nothing new today
From Pope, from Parnell or from Gay?'
Such tattle often entertains
My Lord and me as far as Staines:
As once a week we travel down
To Windsor and again to town;
Where all that passes, inter nos,
Might be proclaimed at Charing Cross.

Yet some I know with envy swell,
Because they see me used so well:
'How think you of our friend the Dean?
I wonder what some people mean;
My Lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tete a tete:
What, they admire him for his jokes--
See but the fortune of some folks!'

There flies about a strange report
Of some express arrived at court;
I'm stopped by all the fools I meet,
And catechized in every street.
'You, Mr Dean, frequent the great;
Inform us, will the Emperor treat?
Or do the prints and papers lie?'
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.

'Ah Doctor, how you love to jest!
'Tis now no secret'--I protest
'Tis one to me. 'Then, tell us, pray
When are the troops to have their pay?'
And though I solemnly declare
I know no more than my Lord Mayor,
They stand amazed, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.

Thus in a sea of folly tossed,
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat;
Oh, could I see my country seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book;
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt a court and town.